


A Demon And His King

by ScorchedAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Kink, Demon Dean Winchester, Drowley, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Dynamics, Spooning, reluctance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorchedAngel/pseuds/ScorchedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't adjust well to his new life as a demon. He has no interest in the activities that would have appealed to him, even as a human. He just keeps clinging to Crowley's shirt tails like a lost child and eventually Crowley stops fighting it. If this new Knight Of Hell wants to live out his days as the most powerful lapdog in Hell, Crowley is willing to indulge him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Demon And His King

For a kid who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders to suddenly lose all sense of guilt and responsibility… Crowley had thought Dean Winchester would thrive. Instead, he’d come crawling back to Crowley’s side every morning like a dog that’d had too much fun. This new Demon, this ‘Knight of Hell’ was nothing more than a kid who’d stolen his father’s car keys but didn’t know what to do next.

Crowley had tried sending him out into the world to try his hand at a little mindless destruction, but something had held him back. Muscle memory? Some left over sense of morality? He’d tried bringing him to Hell with him to torture a few souls. After all, he’d excelled at it even when he was human, but despite his obvious aptitude for it, he always ended up following Crowley around.

Yes, somehow Crowley had ended up with the most powerful lap dog in Hell.

At some point, he had decided to stop fighting it. If Dean wanted to cling to his leg, so be it. He was going to make the most of it.

He’d started small at first. All he did was stroke a hand through the demon’s hair whenever the torture he was dolling out was particularly creative, or he broke someone faster than expected. At first, Dean pulled away from his touch, but he came to associate it with a job well done, and the approval he’d always craved in life.

Crowley couldn’t remember when he’d started referring to himself as ‘Daddy’, but Dean had taken to using the moniker eventually. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, with daddy-issues like the Winchesters’. He’ll never forget that first him he tugged gently on the man’s hair and got a breathy “Mmm, thanks Daddy,” in return.

He had found Dean a living space in Hell worthy of a prince. Luxurious décor, beautiful women willing to cater to his every need, all the pie he could eat…but instead, Dean opted to spend almost every night curled up on the chaise longue at the foot of Crowley’s bed. He’d never really minded the intrusion.

“Why don’t you come and join Daddy in bed?” he asked one night. “Sometimes I think the hellhounds are more comfortable than you are that thing.”

Dean sat up and regarded Crowley’s luxurious silk sheets and soft down pillows. He bit his lip and looked shyly at the King of Hell. It was hard to believe he was the same person sometimes. This guy who could use a knife like it was an extension of his hand, could bring a soul to its knees with nothing more than a look, still looks at Crowley like any minor gesture might disappoint him.

Crowley patted the space beside him, letting Dean know he was welcome. “Come on then.”

Dean got gingerly to his feet and rounded the bed so he was standing in front of Crowley.

“You stink of despair and viscera,” Crowley said casually. “Lose the work clothes and turn the light off before you come to bed.” With a wave of his hand, all his own clothes were stripped away and already folded on the other side of the room. He crawled under the covers and turned away, letting the wide-eyed demon believe he was no longer observing his every move.

There was a little hesitation before Dean started to remove his clothes. He carefully folded his shirt and jeans and left them beside Crowley’s. His fingers went finally to the elastic of his boxers, lingering for a moment before he chose not to follow Crowley’s example and left them on. Perhaps he was having second thoughts as he returned to the side of the bed, but he never showed it. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand and climbed in beside the King of Hell.

Crowley decided to leave him in peace for a moment. He was lying on his back, eyebrows knotted, staring intently at the ceiling, and Crowley couldn’t help wondering on what he was reflecting. It wasn’t long before Dean turned his back on Crowley and pulled the sheets up to his chin.

Crowley chose that moment to make his move. He turned to face the demon’s back and snaked his hand, under the sheets, onto Dean’s shoulder. He smoothed his hand over the skin there in small circles until Dean placed his hand on top. For a brief moment, Crowley thought Dean was going to tell him to stop. Instead he shuffled back until his back was pressed to Crowley’s chest. More out of instinct than anything else, Crowley wrapped a protective arm around Dean’s chest.

“Thanks Daddy,” Dean whispered in the darkness.

“I’ve got you,” Crowley whispered back.

As much as he hated to admit it, Crowley began to find himself drawn to Dean almost as much as the young demon seemed drawn to him. While Crowley worked quietly in his office, Dean was always happy to sit quietly in the corner, or lounge on the floor at Crowley’s feet with his back to the desk. An occasional hand in his hair was all the reassurance he seemed to require. Reassurance that Crowley had not forgotten him perhaps? No matter how they spent their days, there was always a silent agreement that they would spend their nights together.

Eventually, Crowley stopped turning away when he felt his erection starting to grow. The first time it happened, he heard a distinct hitch in Dean’s breath. Dean lowered a hand behind his back, checking to see what was pressing against his lower back. When his hand came into contact with Crowley’s hardness, he jerked it away, but he didn’t move his body.

Crowley couldn’t help smiling. “Would you like me to turn over?” he asked quietly.

Dean was quiet for a moment and Crowley could hear him swallow. “No, it’s okay,” he said carefully. He surprised Crowley by shuffling slightly closer, effectively trapping his erection between them both.

Crowley chose not to tell Dean he knew he was hard too.

They had always slept in that same position, with Crowley’s chest pressed against Dean’s back. Crowley didn’t want to push him into anything more intimate; he knew the boy would want more eventually.

His patience was rewarded after almost three months of sleeping together when Dean turned to face him. They had climbed into bed as they had every night until then. Dean still insisted on that layer of underwear to conserve his modesty, but Crowley had no such qualms. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his feet up under the covers, lying down so he was facing out into the darkness. As always, Crowley wrapped an arm around his chest.

Crowley sensed only the slightest flicker of hesitation before Dean shifted his weight and rolled onto his back. For a moment, Crowley thought he was going to get out of the bed completely. Instead, he shuffled down and turned so they were face to face, burying his face in Crowley’s chest. He already felt unusually protective of this demon, so without even really thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and held him close. Dean sighed happily against his chest and breathed out a contented “Thanks, Daddy.”

Whether or not in was intentional, Crowley wasn’t sure, but this new position had the added benefit of pressing his erection to Dean’s stomach. Experimentally, he moved he knee forward, gently forcing his leg between Dean’s. He could feel the dead weight of Dean’s balls against his thigh and gave his crotch a small nudge. Dean hummed in approval, urging Crowley on.

He remained still after that. Leaving his thigh rested against Dean’s crotch. He could feel the demon’s cock beginning to harden and it almost pained him to stop, but he knew his restraint would make the King of Hell’s claim on him all the more sweet.

-o-o-

Dean approached the door of Crowley’s room and hesitated, as he always did. He refused to think of it as ‘their’ room, even though it was where he slept every night and where he kept all his clothes. But, as always, he pushed through the door anyway.

“Hello darling,” Crowley said without looking. He was rifling through the drawer in his dressing table and closed it after making a satisfied noise.

Dean just grunted in response. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked that Crowley was always waiting here for him.

“So,” Crowley began, “what has my newest Knight of Hell been up to today?”

Dean shrugged. He had objected at first to Crowley casually claiming him like that, but had gradually got used to it. After all, wasn’t he laying as much of a claim on Crowley? “Nothing much,” he told The King, “broke another soul today. The guy had been so strong until now.” Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should be disgusted at himself, but he just couldn’t bring that feeling to the surface. Now he just craved the sense of achievement he got from torturing souls and the small nods of approval from his king.

“Good boy,” Crowley said, before walking up to Dean and stroking a hand through his hair. Dean couldn’t help a hum of thanks. “I have some paperwork I want to finish before going to bed. Won’t you join me in my study sweetheart?”

Dean just nodded and followed him into the next room. As Crowley sat down in his luxurious leather chair, Dean took his usual place beside him, leaning back against the solid desk. He really relished his time here with Crowley. The King insisted on silence, which was rare in Hell, and it gave Dean time for peace and reflection. The occasional reminder from Crowley that he was still there (a pull on his ear, a hand through his hair) didn’t hurt either. It was easy to feel touch-starved in Hell and Dean often wondered in Crowley felt it too.

“I just have a few last contracts to sign off on and then we can go to bed, okay darling?” Crowley said, giving Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“No problem,” Dean muttered as he settled in. As a demon on earth, pain and discomfort were a minor annoyance. He could easily withstand the pain of being shot or stabbed in the gut, but in Hell, the rules were different. Once, when Crowley had noticed him struggling to find a comfortable position, he’d produced a red silk cushion to sit on. It had helped a lot, but occasionally he still got stiff while sitting at Crowley’s feet, especially after a day’s work. He stretched his neck, twisting his spine each way and sat back against the desk. It hadn’t helped much, but he didn’t want to distract Crowley.

“Something wrong?” Crowley asked without looking up.

“’m fine,” Dean mumbled, embarrassed that he’d disturbed Crowley’s work.

Crowley looked down at him then and gave him an appraising look. “Why don’t you rest your head here, hmm?” he said, patting a spot on his thing.

Dean glanced up, partially looking to see if he was serious and partially for permission. When he was sure that it was okay, he rested his head against Crowley’s leg, and he had to admit, his neck did feel better. He shuffled closer and had to wrap an arm around his king’s calf for balance. “This okay?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Crowley replied, and rested a hand on the side of Dean’s head to show his approval.

Dean closed his eyes and started to relax, focusing on nothing but Crowley’s hand on his head and the occasional hum of approval when he read a particularly pleasing contract.

Before long, Crowley was gently pulling his leg from Dean’s grip and standing up. “Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “time for bed. Are you coming my dear?”

Dean nodded and got to his feet, following him through the door to the bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Crowley started undressing and Dean sat down on the chaise longue to observe him. He was never really sure why Crowley did this from time to time. He was perfectly capable of removing his clothes with a click of his fingers, but if he wanted to put on a show, Dean was willing to indulge him. He watched closely as Crowley removed his suit jacket, then his vest, and hung them up in the closet. Next he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks before pulling off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

Dean sat transfixed, watching Crowley’s performance. It wasn’t that he found it arousing, but he could admit to a little thrill every time he pulled down his trousers and briefs and his penis was suddenly on display for only Dean.

Once Crowley was naked and had climbed under the sheets, it was Dean’s turn. The only difference was, Crowley never watched. At first he’d been glad of the privacy, but as time went on he started to get offended. He’d seemed so pleased the first time Dean shed his clothes for him. Didn’t he want to see him naked? He paused, as he always did, with his fingers on the elastic of his boxers. He’d already allowed himself to grow so close to the demon, but this was the only physical barrier he insisted on. He wasn’t really sure why. He cleared his throat trying to get Crowley’s attention. When that didn’t work he sighed gently and said, “Daddy.”

That was enough to pique his interest and he turned to face Dean’s side of the bed. Neither said another word as Dean slid his underwear down his thighs and stepped out of them. He looked to Crowley for approval and found him looking unashamedly at his dick. “That’s my boy,” he said with a small smile. “Come on then, let Daddy keep you warm.”

Dean climbed into bed as usual, and lay on his side, facing away from his bed mate. Crowley wrapped a protective arm around him and Dean shuffled back until they were pressed together completely. It wasn’t long before he felt the other demon’s erection growing between them. He had felt almost indifferent to Crowley’s hardness at first. They were already more intimate than Dean would ever have expected and if it was that pleasurable for Crowley…so what? Dean would be lying if he said he’d never gotten an erection when he was in bed with The King.

Without the layer of underwear, the feeling was quite different. Somehow, without moving his hands, Crowley had managed to nestle his cock in the crack of Dean’s ass. The feeling of skin against skin was strangely comforting. No one had ever really touched him there with bare skin, and he couldn’t resist moving his hips slightly to feel the smoothness.

“Careful darling,” Crowley murmured in his ear. “You don’t want to get me too excited do you?”

Dean stopped moving and closed his eyes, willing his own erection to go away. “I don’t care,” he answered eventually.

“Why don’t you turn around,” Crowley said quietly.

Dean hesitated. Apparently the demon had taken Dean’s lack of underwear as an invitation to take things further. He wasn’t all together surprised, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered the possibility. He started to wonder why he was even bothering to hold back. It wasn’t as if he was going anywhere any time soon. What was the harm in settling into this roll? He let out a long breath and turned to face Crowley.

“There’s my boy,” Crowley cooed. “Have you got a kiss for Daddy?”

The younger demon swallowed a lump in his throat. They were already lying face to face; all he had to do was close the small gap between them. As if sensing his apprehension, Crowley did it for him.

The kiss was achingly gentle. Crowley did little more than press their lips together for a few seconds, but it was enough to make Dean wonder why they hadn’t done this sooner. Crowley tasted of whiskey and smoke, and Dean licked his lips to savour the taste. He didn’t realise he’d closed his eyes until he opened them again and found his king regarding him with satisfaction.

“Son, I could write poems about just your lips.”

Dean blushed. “Shut up,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“I mean it, but I’d rather put them to work. I can’t stop thinking about them stretched around my cock.” The trepidation must have been clear on Dean’s face, for he added, “Perhaps another time.” For now, he pulled Dean tight to his Chest. Instinctively, Dean hugged him back as he felt Crowley’s leg push between his knees. “Relax darling, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

“Thanks Daddy,” Dean muttered against his ear, ignoring the self-assurance in Crowley’s voice.

With his free hand, Crowley reached down between them and started playing absent-mindedly with his penis. With both their dicks being in such close proximity, it wasn’t long before he took Dean’s in his hand as well.

Dean heard himself give a small gasp. Of course, he was already hard, but this was a feeling of intimacy he hadn’t experienced since he arrived in Hell. He had barely even allowed himself the comfort of his own hand. Crowley was just fingering his length slowly and it made Dean crave more. He gave Crowley an encouraging nod and the demon smiled, before wrapping his fist around both their cocks and squeezing.

Crowley’s face gave little away, but between the moans of pleasure, his closed eyes and his parted lips, Dean was an open book. It didn’t take Crowley long to work out how to drive him crazy. Dean could feel his cock sliding against Crowley’s, the glans creating friction against the sensitive underside of Dean’s cock. As he rutted against the other man, he suddenly became aware of a slick wetness between them. Somehow, Crowley had produced some kind of lube without having to move his hands.

Before he had a chance to say anything about it, Crowley had captured his mouth in a fierce kiss. It was the closest Dean had come to seeing the King of Hell losing control. It was wet and open mouthed and desperate, and Dean did his best to keep up. He couldn’t help smiling as the hand on his back slid lower to cup his ass.

Crowley came soon after, with little more than a satisfied grunt. The feeling of his dick getting covered in Crowley’s come was almost enough to push him over the edge. But it was when he felt fingers venturing between his ass cheeks and prodding at his hole that he finally came, hard. He continued to hump against Crowley’s leg, riding out his orgasm, and rolled onto his back, panting heavily.

Crowley propped himself up on one elbow and whipped the covers off them both. He looked Dean up and down with satisfaction, his eyes settling on his softening dick. “Good boy,” he said calmly.

Dean looked over at him, trying not to let the guilt he was feeling show on his face. He could barely comprehend what they’d just done.

“Relax darling,” Crowley said, stroking the top of his head. “What happens in Hell, stays in Hell. That was just for you and me.”

Dean gave him a weak smile, which was particularly difficult when he just felt like crying for the first time since he awoke as a Demon. When Crowley said ‘Howl at the moon’, this wasn’t what Dean had had in mind.

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up before that dries,” Crowley said, pointing to the splattered come on Dean’s cock and stomach. With a click of the demon’s fingers, they were both refreshed.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, pulling the covers up to his chin. “Will you turn your light off?”

“Sure,” Crowley said, still using that satisfied voice.

“Thanks Crowley.”


End file.
